


Early Morning

by hydrangeamaiden



Series: Hallownest Collection [5]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Caretaking, Comfort, Common Cold, Fluff, Gen, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23397817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrangeamaiden/pseuds/hydrangeamaiden
Summary: Ghost is woken up by the Grimmchild, who has caught a cold.
Relationships: Grimmchild & The Knight (Hollow Knight)
Series: Hallownest Collection [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1419010
Comments: 7
Kudos: 164





	Early Morning

The sun has not even risen when Ghost is awoken by sharp coughing. They bolt upright in bed, cold and confused by their dreams. The blanket has been snatched away by the Grimmchild, who is alternating between coughing and crying. Her breath hitches, and then she sneezes messily into the blanket.

Oh.

Ghost rubs their eyes and flicks on the lantern. Their charge had been lethargic and fussy all of yesterday, so this doesn’t surprise them. Not as much as the first time she had gotten sick. There had been a lot of panicking between Ghost and Hollow, who were very much suffering from Hornet’s absence (she had something to attend to that day, and they could not get in touch with her until the evening).

It’s all to be expected, but it still pains Ghost to see her so upset. She’s just a baby; she doesn’t know how to cope with a cold. And it’s so close to her naming day, too. Ghost pulls the blanket away from her and grimaces: it’s all covered with snot. They toss it into the hamper in the corner, and turn their attention to the Grimmchild. Her carapace is warm and clammy to the touch, and hot tears roll down her cheeks. Ghost hops out of bed with her in their arms, chin on their shoulder and tail wrapped around their waist.

Across the hall, Hornet opens the door to her room. In place of her usual red cloak is a fleece nightgown and a blanket drawn over her shoulders. Leaving her room at this time is enough of a journey to warrant a makeshift cloak. “Is everything okay?” she grunts at them.

‘Yes’, they sign, and gesture for her to go back to bed. When her door has closed, they proceed down the stairs. They don’t bother to tiptoe past Hollow’s room: their sibling is the soundest of sleepers. The racket the Grimmchild is making concerns them, though, so much that the first thing they do in the kitchen is look for her bottle.

They don’t bother heating the milk up. The Grimmchild has been crying so hard that she looks in pain: her face has gone red and scrunched up, and her voice is beginning to rasp like the Troupe Master’s. Ghost sits cross-legged on the floor, child in their lap, and hold the nipple of the bottle to her gasping mouth. Instinctively she closes her mouth around it and begins to suck, with fat tears still gathered in her red-jewel eyes.

Ghost puts their forehead against hers. Far warmer than usual, and she is a warm bug. It’s not enough to tell if she has a fever; she’s always toastier than usual after she has been sobbing, which is a lot these days. Still, they consider the bottle of medicine that they themselves turn to when under the weather.

They shift the Grimmchild to one arm and unlock the medicine cabinet. The precious few bottles they have are clustered in a small, woven basket lined with cloth. Ghost reaches for the smallest one with a peeling label, perfect for cold and fever. They expect more of a fight from the Grimmchild when they unscrew the cap, but she is too occupied with her bottle to fuss.

Ghost has considered mixing in the medicine with her milk before, but they’ve wisely decided against it: she might come to expect the bitter syrup in all of her bottles, and refuse to drink at all. They wait patiently until she has finished her milk, and then offers her the spoon.

“Nuh!” She clamps her mouth shut and turns her chin up.

Ghost chirps gently and brings the spoon closer. They know: it’s awful stuff. The first time they tasted it, they immediately spat it back out (much to Hornet’s frustration). They wish they could tell her that they understand, that they don’t expect her to like it, but they still cannot and probably never will be able to speak. All they can do is click their mandibles at her in a soothing rhythm, and even then she starts to cry again. When she opens her mouth to whine, they pop the spoon in.

Just like last time, she cries and thrashes her tail and tries to spit it out, but Ghost puts a finger to her mouth so the medicine has nowhere to go but down. She hisses at them, gets snot and tears all over her shell and knocks the spoon out of their hand.

At least last time, they had Hollow to hold her for them. They sigh quietly, and climb up to the sink.

“Nooo!” The Grimmchild wails when they turn on the water. “No no no!”

‘No’ is currently her favorite word, and one of the few she knows. Ghost sets her on a folded-up towel, and tests the water temperature. Still cold. It takes _forever_ for the water to heat up around here. They bide their time by clicking their mandibles and rubbing the Grimmchild’s belly, doing the best that they can to soothe her.

They themselves have had to cry it out, without comfort, for years and years. They don’t want the Grimmchild to have to do the same, even once. It’s the reason they let her sleep in their bed.

Well, that, and they get lonely too. The water has finally warmed up, so they hold a washcloth under the faucet and wring it out. The Grimmchild, once realizing that she’s only getting a sponge bath, calms down considerably. She nips at the cloth when Ghost wipes her face, but it is merely a playful gesture. To cheer her up further, they tickle her belly and beneath her chin until she starts giggling (hoarse and phlegmy, thanks to her cold). Aside from her red-rimmed eyes, it’s as if she was never upset.

It is a much quieter trip back upstairs, what with the Grimmchild cleaned off, medicated, and placated with another bottle. Ghost swaddles her in a fresh blanket and lays her atop the blankets. When she begins to snuffle, they roll up another blanket and place it beneath her neck.

Though the Grimmchild is content to return to sleep, Ghost finds that they are now wide awake—but it’s too early for them to get out of bed. They take the bottle from the Grimmchild’s mouth and set it aside, so she won’t choke in her sleep, and sits cross-legged next to her. It has already been a year since they started taking care of her, and some days they still have no idea what they’re doing.  Just like when she was a newborn, they prop their chin in their hands and watch her sleep, afraid that something will happen to her if they look away for even a minute.

Of course, they’ve dozed off themselves when the sun peeks over the horizon, huddled up next to the Grimmchild.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still working on my multichapters (the PV & Grimmnet fics atm) but of course I want to write some oneshots as well. Everything happening in the world feels so stressful lately, like it doesn't feel real. It's hard to hide that I'm having another depressive episode.


End file.
